


Harry Potter: Book One

by onepeterpotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autism, Autistic Harry Potter, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Good Malfoy Family (Harry Potter), Good Slytherins, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, POV Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepeterpotter/pseuds/onepeterpotter
Summary: A Harry Potter retelling, on what I think would happen if the Boy-Who-Lived was autistic. book one
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	Harry Potter: Book One

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head for a while now and it just wouldn't leave, so I've decided to write it out! I don't really have anything planned for this yet, so tags will be added throughout the making of this! I'm not autistic, but I've been doing a lot of research on this subject -- please feel free to critique me, and let me know if there is something that you would like to see or add or take away. If I put out wrong information or if something I type is offensive, please let me know. I'm not trying to offend anyone and I don't want to.

A light thump sounded through his small cupboard when his feet touched the wooden floor; he wiggled his toes before he tapped his left foot once, his right twice, and then his left foot once more. He found the pattern to be soothing and copied it four more times before he turned his focus onto his fingers. Starting on his left hand he cracked the first knuckle on his pinkie -- he repeated this, going on to the next finger and the next until all ten of them had been cracked. 

It was dark under the stairs, with only a little light seeping through beneath the door. He knew it was early morning due to the faint glow, and as he could faintly hear Aunt Petunia bustling around in the kitchen. Thankfully though, Uncle Vernon wasn’t yet awake. Harry didn’t much care for his Uncle Vernon, as the man had always been mean to him and called him degrading names, and on a few occasions, he got physical. 

Quietly, Harry stumbled out of his cupboard and made his way up the stairs to the bathroom, stepping softly through the house so as not to alert anyone of his being awake. After reaching the bathroom he gently shut the door behind him, and once inside he spent a good minute trying to find the little stool that Aunt Petunia bought for Dudley, and once found he placed it in front of the bathroom sink so he could see the mirror and reach the faucet. He may be four, but even he knew that he was way too small for his age as he struggled to look into the mirror. Standing on his tiptoes gave him a better view, however. Once he was upon the stool Harry looked at his reflection; he gave himself a contemplative look as he didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t as white as the Dursleys or why his hair was black. ‘Shouldn’t he look like his family?’ he thought. 

But he didn’t care too much about this, as he liked the way his skin was different and how his eyes looked exotic against his tan skin, and the way that his dark hair seemed to never lay flat. After giving himself a thoughtful look in the mirror, and deciding that he doesn’t care if he looks like the Dursleys or not, as he likes the way he looks, he stuck his tongue out at his own reflection and made a series of ridiculous faces. 

After a minute or two of that childish entertainment, he opened the top drawer of the cabinet closest to him and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. He wasn’t a big fan of the shade of the paste or the taste, but he suffered through it as it was using this or to go without. He gave his teeth a thorough cleaning -- making sure he gave every tooth enough attention before he moved on to cleaning his tongue and using his mouth wash. When finished and everything was put up, he moved over to the shower and turned it on; he started to strip while he waited for it to heat up. 

As usual, it was uneventful and didn’t take too long. When done, he hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around him before he started to make his way back to his cupboard. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he made his way down the stairs, taking care not to step on where the boards would usually creak. Once he made it under the staircase without bothering anyone he sat down on his small makeshift bed. 

He watched as tiny spiders scuttered around, climbing the walls and scampering against the ground, and started to count. He may not know how to read or write, but he does know how to count. He thinks. 

But even if he doesn’t, it won’t stop him from trying as he likes to do it. 

“One, two, five, three, seven, four-” he kept on counting until he reached sixty, which admittedly didn’t take that long as he is four and has never been taught how to do so, and then he did it four more times until five minutes had passed. He then dried himself off before putting on some of Dudley’s hand-me-downs that were way too big for Harry and seemed to always aggravative his skin -- ripping the tags out did ease the aggravation, but not by much. Once dressed, he made his way into the kitchen to help Aunt Petunia with breakfast. 

“Mornin’, Aunt Petunia!” 

At the loud tone of his voice, she shot him a look: “Quiet!” she hissed, “Are you wanting to wake up your uncle?” 

A little gasp escaped Harry at the thought of waking up his uncle, and he quickly covered his mouth and shook his head no to her question. Aunt Petunia released an exasperated sigh and picked up a plate from the counter and placed it on the table. “When you’re finished with your breakfast, I have some chores that you need to help me with.” 

Harry couldn’t help the flapping of his hands when he saw what was his breakfast; although he eats it almost every day, he always gets excited when he can eat a peanut butter sandwich. He quickly made his way onto the chair, having to sit on his knees so he could look over the table and reach his sandwich. Aunt Petunia even cut it in half for him! “Now quickly eat up, Harry. I need help doing the dishes.” 

-

Harry wandered up the stairs as the night got darker and made his way to the bathroom, once again brushing his teeth and using the bathroom before he made his way back down to his bedroom. He changed into his pajamas before snuggling under his worn blanket and starring at the bottom of the stairs. 

He started to speak aloud about his day, making sure to be quiet enough so that no one except for him could hear: “Today, I wote up and tappeded my feet and crackeded my knuckles. I brusheded my teeth and tood a shower and tot dressed. Aunt Petunia made me a peanut butter san’ich! It was reawwy tood. I hewped with chores! I warshed dishes and planteded fwowers and cweaneded the house!” Harry continued to prattle on about his day until he led up to what he was doing then. Once he deemed he was finished he settled down and started to count once again.

He fell asleep shortly after, and when he woke up in the morning he tapped his feet and cracked his knuckles before he made his way upstairs to brush his teeth and take a shower. 

-

It wasn’t until he started school that they found out that Harry was autistic.


End file.
